“Sabedoras of Afro-Colombian cuisine” The feminine power behind the Pacific kitchen

Powerful drums echo the atmosphere, an intense warmth hits the ambience and the promise of a seafood feast rich in herbs and history seduces my senses, as I enter the culinary gazebo at the Petronio Alvarez Festival, the largest Afro culture festival in Latin America, set in Cali, Colombia. Emerging as one of the most important Afro-descendant population settlements in Latin America Cali holds great importance in Latin America as a center of Afro-Colombian cultural expression. The city's vibrant Afro descendant heritage has shaped its identity, making it a significant destination for those interested in exploring and experiencing the diverse cultural tapestry of Latin America.

The festival features music, arts, literature and, of course, food, drinks and ancestral flavors belonging to communities from the four Colombian Pacific regions of Chocó, Valle del Cauca, Cauca and Nariño. These areas comprise enormous biodiversity in flora and wildlife, with jungles, rivers, mangroves and a hypnotizing sea, as well as magic and ancestral tradition. 

I remember that Colombian cuisine, in my childhood days, was often regarded as plain and peasant-like, often overshadowed by the allure of French gastronomy that prevailed in some of the country’s social circles. However, as the years passed, that perception of an underappreciated culinary realm has been thoroughly shattered. I began to explore the epicurean wonders of my own land. What I discovered was a vibrant tapestry of flavors, a convergence of cultures, forcibly mixed, that resulted in an extraordinary array of soups, stews, and wraps. The more I grew up, and the greater the distance that now lies between me and my homeland, the more I realized how disconnected I,  as Colombian, was from our own legacy. Attending this festival is an essential element in my journey of rediscovering my own culture.

Growing up in privilege, the more I began to discover this cultural blend, the more I thought about the incongruences in my environment—the irony at its utmost expression. The desire to consume Afro-descendant culture, whether through gastronomy in popular restaurants across town, or music such as Grupo Niche or Chocquibtown, or even Petronio Alvarez himself, a poet and composer whose name became immortalized in the festival. And the painful reality of a country that continues to be classist and racist, where Afro-descendants remain relegated as second and third-class citizens.

As I stroll through the site, my I want to try everything appetite overwhelms me; food stalls surround the place revealing the treasures of a hidden gastronomy as cheery faces proudly offer native gems.

Sixty kitchens flutter the fire of cauldrons as they represent the passion, strength and power of African influence that strongly impacts food and culture around these lands. These kitchens,            carefully chosen among hundreds by the event directors, represent either a family, or a community from each territory. Although they seem to share similarities in terms of dishes and flavor, each one has its own hallmark. Whether the presence of seafood and jungle products is stronger in one area than another, or indigenous and afro descendant cooking methods differ, each subregion has its own culinary identity, influenced by unique historical, cultural, and geographical influences.

So, I wonder, who’s behind these enchanting yet mighty kitchens? Whose hands, gifted with so much devotion and enormous skill, have the power of satisfying the nostalgic flavor of home, making you feel loved with a single spoonful? Intrigue is quickly solved as several Afro-Colombian women appear at the gastronomic symposium stage right in the middle of the gazebo for a spectacular series of live cooking shows. 

Some are dressed in colorful fabrics resembling the Kitenge (also known as “African print fabric” or “Ankara fabric” in West Africa), some wear chef's uniform but all wear the distinctive turban.

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The turban is not only a colorful ornament, nor a simple fashion tool. During slavery, black women in the Pacific were forced to cover their hair "so that they would not become attractive to their masters", and that is why they began to wear it; know that many of the fabrics of these turbans included messages of resistance in their designs, circles and geometric patterns were a way of expressing and imposing themselves on the system.

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About a dozen women quickly begin to prepare mise en place for the upcoming act. Ready to start the show, each one entertains with incredible dexterity, and all of them have a story to tell: They are the Sabedoras.

I've known Sabedoras, or knowers, as women bearers of ancestral knowledge, both culinary and medicinal, serving as the core element of cultural preservation, as they represent important links to the past. In the Afro-Colombian cultures of the Pacific,  women are essential to unite the spiritual and physical world. They often use natural remedies, plants, and other traditional methods to treat physical and mental illnesses. They are the people’s guide in life and death because of their years of experience and dedication to the community. They have been the central axis of Pacific cuisine, as they have sustained the memory of their culinary and medical traditions through orality and music for the new generations.  

“Women in our society are the ones who carry on with the cultural transmission to the new generations, we give life, we nourish,” Maura de Caldas. De Caldas is a renowned ambassador of the culture of the Pacific, with prodigious hands and a deep connoisseur of the zests of her territory. Through flavor and music, she has managed to spread the gastronomic culture of her region, always longing for it to be recognized by her own country, and “Why not?” she sighs, “the world.”I strongly nod.

Sitting on a  wooden bench, I gaze at the women while they cook for festival goers. Men are in charge of taking the orders, children help peel vegetables and seafood with great skill. Through it all, the women use recipes that only exist in their memory. Very few books carry on the tradition because these families are the tradition themselves. Then I remember what de Caldas says: “When we cook, we also sing, dance, pray and so we pass on our knowledge to new generations. That which happens inside our kitchens, is a celebration of life.”

Stews, soups, fried patties and fishes, and seafood tamales share a signature mother sauce: refrito. A well-balanced blend of traveler and local ingredients, Spanish, African and Indigenous cooking methods and kitchen utensils find each other in the pots: achiote-infused oil, aji dulce (“sweet chiles”, - Capsicum chinense), scallions and the most aromatic amalgam of “rooftop” herbs or hierbas de azotea: black basil, bushy oregano, culantro and pennyroyal mint, among many others, all braised together.

Azotea herbs are of vital importance within the community. Not only are they used for cooking, but also for medicinal purposes as they are often employed in traditional remedies to alleviate illnesses and maintain well-being. Additionally, these herbs are crucial in cultural ceremonies, deeply intertwined with important life milestones like births and funerals. 

These herbs grow in raised pots or old wooden canoes elevated above the ground, surrounded by the humidity of the rainforest. This ancestral cultivation method is widespread in the Colombian Pacific and is essential for protecting crops due to the humid ecosystems, which include mangrove areas and flood-prone rivers.

For centuries, Sabedoras have trusted the herbs’ power of healing. Understanding the farming, knowing the properties of each plant, and navigating the challenges of a tropical environment has enabled these women to develop a masterful skill in crafting medicines. These medicines are tailored to each patient, taking into account their condition, mood, and personality. It's about creating personalized remedies that are completely customized to meet the individual needs of each person. This wisdom is passed down from generation to generation.

According to De Caldas, while men were primarily devoted to farming the land, they also took on the responsibility of providing seeds for the women to sow. These ventures would last days, so women acquired the knowledge and skills to cope with toothaches, colic pain and even childbirth. Furthermore, it was very uncommon for doctors to reach rural communities, as many of them could only be accessed by canoes. Due to the lack of specialists, Sabedoras took care of the health of their families amidst the jungle and the river. 

Azotea herbs are also part of Viche culture: a powerful  distilled spirit made from sugarcane or the juice of crushed sugarcane known as "guarapo." The process of making Viche involves fermenting the sugarcane juice or molasses, followed by distillation. The resulting liquor is typically clear and has a strong alcohol content which combined with the herbs, creates varieties such as “Curao” or “Tomaseca,” very much used to cure menstrual discomfort.

In all cases, Azotea herbs serve multiple purposes, acting as an economic resource for women and their households, as healing agents, and as the primary ingredient in shaping the character and flavor of Pacific cuisine, infusing power and character into their cooking, and, of course, their refrito.

Refrito and not sofrito encapsulates traditions and unity, as many families have their own unique refrito recipe passed down through generations. It is a way to connect with one's heritage and maintain culinary traditions that have been cherished within families for years. Oily and rich, refrito does not include tomatoes, water, or salt. It can be left at room temperature for up to five days. However, in the past, it used to be prepared daily.

“Just as houses on the shores of the sea or rivers of the Pacific have their bases made of guaiacum tree, our ancestral cuisine finds in the refrito and coconut its inseparable companions”, De Caldas recounts in her book "Sabor a Maura".

The origins of refrito can be tracked down from the Spanish cuisine "sofrito," sofreír, which means "to sauté" or "to fry." Refrito, refried, is the Afro-Colombian variation on the Spanish recipe that also has its roots in Ancient Roman cuisine. The primary purpose of refrito is to add depth, flavor and aroma to dishes.

“Each region has its distinction, but our common thread are the herbs” says Elsi Valencia, whose remarkable vocation for Afro-Pacific cuisine is a lifetime’s work. "Without tradition, there is no memory or evolution.” As she considers cooking a journey through her memories, she seeks to evoke the flavors of her hometown, incorporating forgotten ingredients to ensure the continuity of traditional cooking.

Valencia takes her cuisine as a political act and is a pioneer and teacher of traditional Pacific cuisine. 

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Elsi Valencia has been an outspoken advocate for human rights and has led numerous initiatives aimed at promoting social justice and community development in the region, serving as a vital support for several Afro-Colombian women who have migrated from armed conflict territories.

Along with coconut cream, refrito creates the foundation for seafood stews or encocados, soups such as fish sancocho and piangua—a type of mangrove swamp oyster—tamal, my utterly favorite. As far as I am from my homeland, tamales always take me back to the nostalgia of city markets, where I used to go and stroll through the fruity labyrinths and fragrant herb corners, amidst the frenetic crowds. Mandatory stops of appreciation, where banana leaves unfurled on tables await their turn to be embellished with corn dough, pork, chicken, and vegetables. The fragrant steam rising from the pots, emanating from the leaves, is something any Colombian would relate to.

Colombian Pacific tamales are very special wrapped gifts. Using the Indigenous cooking method of wrapping cornmeal in plantain leaves, the tamal met a whole new world of zest and aroma when enslaved people were assisted by the Indigenous communities to escape from the Spanish colonies on the Caribbean coast of Colombia. Both shared recipes, ingredients and cooking techniques. Inside these tamales, sometimes made of plantain dough or African fufu, would be buttery fish stuffing, or smoky delicate pork or beef cured underground for months. According to De Caldas, this cured meat, known as "carne serrana," was actually a cooking method introduced by the Spanish, who transmitted the knowledge to the indigenous people of the mountainous region in the department of Nariño. 

In a piangua tamal, the belle of the ball, meat from the little black shellfish is mixed with refrito and coconut milk, and then stuffed into dough and steamed for two hours in plantain leaves. The exterior comes out with an aromatic, moist and yet ashy parfum due the charcoal used in the stoves.

Fried snacks are also main characters in Pacific cuisine. Widely embraced by Afro descendants, deep-fried food became one of the area's main cooking methods. You would find crunchy corn patties stuffed with zesty shrimp in empanadas de camarón, manioc rolls stuffed with smoked fish known as repingachos, green plantain and cheese croquettes called balas or jujú, or tuna taro balls, papa china rellena. 

Among all these ingredients, cooking methods and recipes, one particular element is vital: love. As worn-out and cliché as it sounds, it is love that gives this cuisine its signature. Nourishing someone's soul through the art of food, providing comfort and warmth. It goes beyond mere sustenance, reaching into the depths of one's being to create a profound emotional connection. When love is infused into the culinary process, each step becomes a labor of affection. 

“You may think that we Afro-Pacifican women are tough, and sure we are, but we are all sweet on the inside, too,” de Caldas says with a smile. “Like a marinade, we infuse sweetness and beauty of spirit to everything we do. All we cook for our families and friends is made with love, and love is the only thing that really matters.”

She hands me her cookbook, Sabor a Maura – Maura’s flavor, a long dream finally come true. This colorful and vibrant book collects the universe of the Colombian Pacific, a magical voyage.

Each of the book’s recipes contains a world of meanings, secrets and possibilities. This book gives a special value to Afro-Colombian women who, with persistence and determination, are slowly gaining prominence in their fights around poverty, education and work opportunities. In the stoves, songs of hope simmer, weaving together ancestral tales and uniting voices longing for a cultural vindication. However, the path is still long and dark.

According to Human Rights Watch, Afro-Colombian women indeed face a particularly acute form of discrimination within Colombian society. The legacy of slavery laid the foundation for deeply entrenched racial discrimination and social inequalities that persist to this day. After the abolition of slavery in the mid-19th century, Afro-Colombians faced ongoing marginalization and exclusion from mainstream society. They were often relegated to marginalized rural areas with limited access to resources, land and education. This structural racism and segregation perpetuated the economic and social disadvantages experienced by Afro-Colombian communities, including women. 

The urge for education to dismantle this exclusion is pressing as it is crucial to amplify the voices of Afro-Colombian women and prioritize their needs in policymaking and advocacy efforts aimed at addressing these entrenched inequalities.

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The festival’s live cooking show is about to begin, and I manage myself to (finally!) choose my lunch: sudado triple. Using the Spanish word for sweat, it could be described as a luscious, rich coconut stew, “sweating” its nectar in the sizzling pots, carefully infused with the flavors of the azotea herbs. The triple comes in because it’s made in three different versions—shrimp, crab and snail—served with rice, fried plantains and avocado salad. It’s the ultimate feast paired with ice cold hardened sugarcane water with a dash of lemon, agua de panela con limón.

All eyes on the Sabedoras. de Caldas and her apprentice, Angela Caicedo, climb the stairs. They’re joined by Florisalba Mosquera, traditional cook and teacher in charge of the tribute dish, which tells a concrete story about a meal, contributing to the public’s heritage education in addition to enjoying the gastronomy journey around legacy and identity.

This year's tribute dish is the tapao, a traditional meal from different areas of the Pacific that is part of the so-called resistance/survival cuisine. 

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Afro-Colombian cuisine is often referred to by Sabedoras as "Resistance Kitchen" due to its historical and cultural significance as a form of resistance against oppression and a means of preserving African traditions and identity. Through its vibrant flavors and unique cooking techniques, Afro-Colombian cuisine symbolizes resilience of generations of women who have passed down traditional recipes and cooking methods from mother to daughter, ensuring the survival of their cultural heritage. Each dish tells a story of struggle, triumph, and survival, reflecting the complex history and rich cultural tapestry of Afro-Colombian people.

It is a concept that has emerged organically within discussions and narratives surrounding Afro-Colombian cuisine and its historical significance. It is often used by scholars, activists, and individuals passionate about highlighting the cultural and resistance aspects of Afro-Colombian culinary traditions.

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Cooked and served for breakfast, tapao is a covered casserole with plantain leaves, usually made with fresh fish, green or ripe plantains, scallions, lemon and salt. Azotea herbs, of course, are also used for seasoning. The territory is widely identified by this dish, as it represents all four regions of the Colombian Pacific, an everyday life meal that solves the need in scarcity.

While Caicedo guides the audience through the recipe, draped in a vibrant and flowing traditional dress, de Caldas sits in her wheelchair from time to time to rest, chatting and singing about her childhood memories, reviving stories about her life, town (Guapi, Nariño) and the importance of keeping this heritage alive. There is a risk of these stories not being documented or passed on to younger generations. As older generations pass away, valuable cultural knowledge and stories can be lost if not adequately documented or preserved. Keeping this legacy alive is crucial for maintaining cultural identity, promoting social inclusion, empowering communities, and fostering understanding and appreciation.

The Pacific Colombian cuisine faces several challenges that affect its preservation and promotion inside and outside the country. As recognition and exposure are rather limited, this cuisine is not as well-known as other regional cuisines in Colombia, such as the Antioquian or Caribbean. Many traditional dishes rely on ingredients that are unique to the region, therefore replicating with authenticity may be challenging.

The tapao is finished and served on tiny plates for the audience to taste, including me. Very fresh, very robust and zesty. I can see clearly why, with a long day ahead of you, it would be served for breakfast. It is a reminder of the richness and diversity of Afro-Colombian cuisine, and a testament to the resilience and creativity of the people who create it. Dishes like tapao represent an element of community identity, self-recognition, and memory that foster a sense of belonging and identity to a territory. These aspects of culture are also rooted in the fundamental need for sustenance as a social phenomenon and as the organic foundation of life.

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My lunch is finished, and so is the show, but my desire to interact more with the Sabedoras remains intact. Although I only know a few of their stories, I am certain that each face on the stage holds a tale of struggle, resistance, and resilience. According to Valencia, life in the Pacific territories is a battle, a reflection of contrasts where state policies are reflected in the marginalization and exclusion of Afro-descendant communities, even when they lack access to basic services such as water, electricity, education, and healthcare. The goal is not to abandon the territory, a place of rich biological and cultural diversity. State intervention is necessary, but in harmony with the ecosystemic realities, sociocultural activities, and traditional forms of social organization that shape life in these places. Women hold a central place in the extended family, representing the peoples, identities, customs, and traditions of the territory, which originate from the river. In a broader context, women are the figure of matriarchy, of strength and struggle. 

Their stubborn spirit and commitment to breaking boundaries have left an indelible mark on the community and they serve as an inspiration to all who have the privilege of encountering their stories. In a world where barriers still exist,Sabedoras stand tall, reminding us of the immense power that lies within every individual to shape their destiny and create a brighter future. 

Caicedos steps off the stage and smiles, her bright brown eyes sparkle with infinite optimism as I congratulate both of them for the performance. She and I spent some time together, exchanging ideas and thoughts about the future of Pacific regional cuisine. She tells me about her family and the way they always gather around the table, with family and neighbors. A meal always ends with music and dance, and the joy of sharing her traditions with the ones she loves. She makes a confession. 

“I dream about the day when this cuisine becomes acknowledged as one of the most important in Latin America.” In a racist and exclusionary country that shows no interest in the realities and issues in these territories and communities, for some Sabedoras, this festival serves as a tool of visibility as its principle is to pay homage to the cultural richness of Afro-descendant communities. However, for others, this raises legitimate concerns regarding both the conditions of the festival and the fact that it is becoming increasingly larger, more mainstream, and transitioning into a trend rather than an educational tool to safeguard the country's Afro culture.

I think about Colombian traditional Afro cuisine as one of the richest gastronomies in South America which holds immense significance: it brings forth a celebration of cultural heritage, preservation of culinary traditions, economic opportunities, and enhanced cultural exchange. These unique flavors, techniques, and culinary contributions of Afro-Colombian communities promote culinary diversity, inspire innovation, and foster a deeper understanding among diverse cultures. Embracing Afro-Colombian cuisine's richness not only enriches the South American culinary landscape but also honors the vibrant heritage and culinary legacy of Afro-Colombian communities. Let us savor and appreciate the immense value that Colombian traditional Afro cuisine adds to the culinary tapestry of the continent.

As I smile back, I find myself contemplating the significance of the moment. Watching the show unfold, I realize that many in the audience are learning about our culture, which has often been forgotten and neglected. It's disheartening to see our gastronomic heritage overshadowed by the omnipresence of hamburgers and pizzas, stark reminders of today's food colonialism. Fast food has spread its influence even into the most remote territories, erasing the uniqueness of local cuisines and replacing traditional, locally sourced products with ultra-processed goods.

Valencia joins us and shares with me a childhood dream of returning to the prosperous territory that the Pacific once was, and her faith in the next generation of cooks looking inside rather than outside for fancy techniques and hybrid soulless cuisines.

“Farewell, Maura,” I say, taking her book with me. Inside it, she left me a note: 

“May this knowledge be your guide”